Thick
by Zoetic Aerie
Summary: OC/Arthas - Prison somewhere in or around the ICC. Non-beta'd. Written from the POV of a prisoner. Second Fanfiction even. -Z.A.
1. Chapter 1

First WoW Fanfic, Second Overall. I own nothing except my Razer Mouse &amp; Prideful Gear. Got this idea after running ICC-25 and thought how it would be to have served in the Lich King's prison. Smut - because, Arthas. And death knights.

Thick.

Licking her parched lips with an equally dry tongue, that one word assaulting her mind, she crawled on the frozen floor toward the front of her cell.

Hoping that she'd catch a glimpse of him. Her jailer, who never took of his grey-iron spiky helm nor did he remove the majority of his armor.

He, who had been her only constant in the past weeks. Or months. Or years. It didn't matter, really.

She wasn't sure when she started to like it, but she began to look forward to the heavy footsteps approaching her cell and her body responded in kind. It was a kind of warmth, and even though it started between her cold thighs, it would eventually spread up to her core and down to her thighs.

Words were never exchanged. Just fluids, breath, and heat.

She closed her eyes and allowed the memory to come to her.

He wasn't gentle, but she didn't mind.

The sound of his leg plates crashing to the cement floor would echo through the spacious jail. Sounds were rare and she delighted in that sound almost as much as his rare gasps of pleasure as she took his thickness in her hands, first.

He was thick and heavy, both in and out of states of arousal. His hair was matted and crinkly and but became soft when saturated with her hot saliva.

She would sit back on her heels and would often try to ground herself on something, hoping for a tast of the sensations she was giving him.

He didn't like it when she did that and would grasp her by her shoulders, forcing his cock deeper into her mouth.

She would lick and suck as long as he wanted. She even began to know what he liked, how to bring him off quickly or how to slowly torture him and withholding his release.

Regardless she'd always note his thickness as she would close her eager lips around his shaft. Sometimes he'd hold her by her hair as he fucked his mouth, but more often than not he held on to the bars of the cells as he pumped his hips into her warmth mouth.

When he came, it was as if time stood still. She knew when he was approaching his release. He would thrust erratically, jerking his hips toward her mouth in no pattern. His thigh muscles would tense and low growl would escape his covered mouth. She wished she could see his arousal in his eyes. Wished she could see how his face grimaced as he finally let go, thick release spilling into her dry mouth. She lapped it up, swallowing what he spurt and licking his thighs and thick shaft clean.

She took her time cleaning his semi-erect cock with her tongue. It was as glorious flaccid as it was hard and was always, always so thick. He let her clean it until the feeling passed, and he would push her shoulder away. Perhaps because it was truly the only part of him that she could see that she thought of it so fondly.

He'd turn away from her then and quickly don his legguards. As he walked away, she'd hear the familiar clank of his metal boots against the cement again and gaze wistfully after him.


	2. Chapter 2

She paced her cell for what seemed to be days, even though only a few hours had passed.

Sighing, she collapsed onto the cold cement floor as a her grey robe pooled around her lower half.

"Arthas..." she thought to herself, drumming up memories of his last visit. If she tries hard enough she can still taste his seed in her mouth. It gave warmth to her body then, and the recollection spread a different kind of heat now.

The way he pulled her hair when he found his release and the way he continued to thrust long after he'd spent should be among the last memories she could remember. In her mind, however, he did not walk away after discarding her on the floor. Closing her eyes, she drums the memory of his cold fingers tracing her breasts. His hands were encased in gauntlets and the touch terrified her. They slip under her robe and below her waist. There, Arthas finds the only warmth in his frozen Citadel. She remembers him chuckling at the irony- the Lich King responsible for this liquid blaze.

She focused on her memory and allowed her legs to spread against the grey floor. Her bare hands found her core, ready and dripping with need. Arching her back, she began to expertly stroke herself. She scowled at the hair that had grown back since her imprisonment. She was able to keep clean, yes - but no blade of any kind were given to her. Her lower lips were opening and swelling as she began writhing, anxious to find her release. As she began to shudder she wrapped one fist around one her cell's bars, wanting to ride out every last wave of her orgasm.

She'd learned so much about control while under the watchful eyes of the Lich King and his minions. Knew how to control her release with breathing. She gripped the bar tighter and was preparing to crash when a large, armored hand grabbed the one she'd been using to steady herself.

Gasping, she was pulled forcefully to her feet. With frost around his helm and spaulders she tried to sputter words of explanation, but no words would come to her. He put a single finger on her open lips to further quell any attempts at words. He threw off his gauntlet and traced her cold lips with his finger. Desire was radiating off of her body and she was trembling at being denied release. Sliding his icy finger into her mouth he commanded in a garbled voice, "Suck."


End file.
